


Getting wasted

by CannibaLilly



Series: Physiological Differences [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 12:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibaLilly/pseuds/CannibaLilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of one-shots about the differences in human and Time Lord physiology.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting wasted

**Author's Note:**

> This will make more sense once you've read the first Parts of this series!

Donna loved nothing as much as travelling in the TARDIS with the Doctor. Seeing all those places, meeting all those people and creatures and feeling more useful and important than she had felt in her entire life. She was sure she would never ever want to go back home. Unfortunately home had its way of closing in on her at times. Today had been one of those days.

Donna had been sitting in the library, waiting for the Doctor to finish his tinkering on the TARDIS and join her, when her upgraded mobile phone rang in her pocket. The ginger had answered the call from her mother and regretted it right away.

Sylvia Noble would just call her because of three things.  
1\. The world was positively going down.  
2\. Donna had done something  
3\. Donna had not done something

Today it had been the third reason – What Sylvia’s stubborn daughter had refused to do was marrying and yet again Sylvia decided it was her task to push Donna a little more; she was sure Donna was just remaining single because she wanted to upset her mother. So the blonde woman told Donna about her good friend Nerys’ wedding plans and how her baby twins loved their new father.

To cut a long story short, the call of her mother had been enough to remind Donna of one thing she would never find while travelling about – a husband. If she had to decide between a husband and the travelling she would always chose the latter, but this didn’t mean she couldn’t lament about the lack of the first.

That was why, when the Doctor finally joined Donna in the library, she had made use of the TARDIS very own alcohol stock. Drinking until a problem was gone, how irresponsible was that? Well, she had needed something to do that she knew her mother wouldn't approve of. Alcohol seemed a good option.  
Sniffling, she wiped the last tears out of the corner of her eye and sat up in her seat, a glass with some odd (but quite delicious) alien booze in her hand.

“Having a party?” the Doctor asked ironically, but with a worried undertone and his eyes wandered over the other bottles in front of Donna, two of them already empty. Donna didn’t answer. Firstly, because he obviously knew the answer and secondly, because she wasn’t sure how slurred her voice would sound.

He walked in slalom around the bottles and sat down next to Donna.  
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.  
Donna shook her head, it started swimming and she abruptly stopped.  
“We-ll,” he put a thoughtful look on and glanced about. “There’s not much that can happen to make you sad in a library... Well, this library anyway. Except you read a really sad book. Did you read a sad book?”  
Donna glared at him.  
“I’m not crying because of a daft story!” she ranted. Oh, good. Her voice was still useable.

“A daft story?!” the Doctor wondered shocked. “There are many books worth crying for! Some authors simply create wonderful characters and then one day WHAM! They kill them and in such a case crying is a very appropriate way of dealing with such a loss.”  
Donna decided she was by all means too drunk to put up with this story again.

“Doctor, Dumbledore’s dead since 8 years now, get over it,” she replied annoyed and before the Doctor could complain about her pert answer she reached out for a bottle with an azure liquid in it and push it into the Doctor’s hands. The Time Lord eyed it suspiciously.  
“If I get drunk alone in the library it’s just sad, but if you join me then...” Donna was sure the sentence had made sentence when she’d begun it. “it’s not that sad,” she finished slowly.

“You could tell me what upsets you, instead. It’s better than drowning it in alcohol,” the Doctor reasoned but Donna knew she couldn’t tell him. Not yet. If she would mention the getting married thing he would either try to help her find a husband or he’d put that I-had-a-wife-once-but-now-she’s-gone-look on and Donna knew she couldn’t handle either of his reactions.  
“I’d rather not,” she mumbled and took another sip.  
She knew he was still worried and curious but she was all the more grateful when he just nodded, leaving well alone and taking a sip from the blue liquid. He put the bottle down again and grinned.  
“I forgot how great this tastes.”

The evening went by and Donna’s bad mood finally lightened up. The Doctor could do what the alcohol had failed at and cheered her up, even though the booze helped making her giggle about all kinds of silly alien jokes.  
The Doctor finished a pun about the Slitheen and Donna burst out into a fit of laughter that made her cry.

“Did you even understand that one?” the Doctor asked her with a slight chuckle.  
“Not one word,” Donna replied and giggled about the fact that she didn’t.  
“I guess that means you really had enough of that,” the Doctor announced and gently pulled the bottle out of Donna’s grip. She watched him collecting all the remnant of their evening and tried not to get distracted by his rather nice backside. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? He certainly had a nice bum for such a skinny Martian. Donna snickered about her naughty thoughts but finally came to the conclusion that he may be right, she should head for bed before other parts of his anatomy would get interesting, too.

She sat up, careful not to lose her balance and had to hold onto the sofa firmly so she wouldn’t simply fall off it. The Doctor watched her with an amused look.  
“How does it come that you’re hardly drunk?” Donna asked, even though she reckoned what actually left her mouth was “How you no drunk?”  
“Time Lord trick,” he winked at her. “Alcohol does affect us, but we can kind of... shrug it off.”

“So you planned on staying sober, mean Martian,” Donna accused him.  
“Someone had to take care of you,” the Doctor reminded her. “One day we can switch. Then I’ll drink something and you’ll look after me,” he proposed and Donna nodded. She had no intention to walk all the way to her bed so she simply lay down on the soft couch in the library and snuggled into a big cushion.  
“Wait! But you could just get sober again and then I’m useless. That’s not fair!” she griped. The Doctor thought about that for a moment while putting a blanket over his companion.

“There’s always the ginger beer...,” he mumbled more to himself.  
“Huh?” Donna raised her head attentively.  
“Oh, nothing! Nasty stuff this ginger beer is, it has a way to get straight into our bloodstream and... well, the consequence is a very drunk Time Lord, nothing we should try.”  
Ugh, this sentence had been too long. Donna frowned and finally lay back against the pillow. She had no idea how this ginger beer worked, but one thing was sure. She had to get some of it onboard of the TARDIS... At least if she could remember it tomorrow.


End file.
